Maybe This Time
by breakingatthecracks
Summary: The thing is Santana has been okay. She has been okay until Quinn said, "I missed you," and all Santana could think of is that she missed her, too.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So, yes. I may or may not be back. HAHA. I was supposed to post this right after Quinntana Week but yeah, life happened. So, here it is.

***NOTE: This story follows all canon things up until the 100/101 episodes. You know what that means.***

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**[One: ****TWO OLD FRIENDS MEET AGAIN]**

Maybe—maybe they've always been right about her: she's crazy.

She's a little bit screwed up and she's always resented them for thinking she's nuts until today—the day she steps out of the train into the cruel coldness of New York.

It's been a little over a year since she last saw everyone in this side of the East Coast. It's been a little over a year since the Glee Club disbanded.

It's been a little over a year since she last gave a fuck.

She doesn't understand why she's here right now, so yeah, maybe she's crazy—just about crazy enough to come back.

"Quinn," calls out a familiar high-pitched, over-excited voice.

She turns to her right and sees Rachel—still as tiny as ever—making her way to her. Under normal circumstances, Rachel would have been beaming by now but the reason she's here has forced Rachel to put on her serious face.

"Hey," Quinn greets with a small smile.

Rachel is in a black coat, somewhat a typical New Yorker outfit at this time of the year. The fall season has just kicked in and New York is somewhat chillier this year—if that's even a word.

Rachel gives her a quick hug before taking her luggage.

"I can carry that by myself," Quinn tells her.

Rachel only shrugs as if she heard nothing and links their arms together. "How was the train ride?" Rachel asks, ignoring her protest.

They start walking along with all the other people exiting the station. Quinn's other hand fiddles at the side of her cream-colored coat as Rachel wheels Quinn's luggage on her other side.

"It was okay. It's been a while since my last visit here, though."

Rachel nods, a small look of hurt crosses her face. She still doesn't understand why Quinn has actively avoided going to New York the past year. Quinn feels guilty about that; she just couldn't find the strength to tell her the truth.

Thankfully, Rachel drops the issue. If this was any other day, Quinn is certain Rachel would have asked her why but right now, it's obvious that the other girl has her priorities straight.

Quinn swallows as she braces herself for _the talk. _She knows why she's here. She agreed on being here but at the moment, all she can think of is turning back; and maybe, if Rachel was even just a couple of seconds late, Quinn would have probably taken the train back to New Haven.

She has always believed it's easier that way.

Rachel sighs, "I don't know what to do, Quinn."

"Maybe, you just have to let her make her own decisions."

Rachel stops on her tracks and gives Quinn an amused look, as if she can't believe Quinn just said that.

"What?" Quinn asks when Rachel won't stop looking at her.

"Quinn, Santana is your bestfriend."

"So is Brittany."

"You don't understand."

"Trust me, Rachel, I do."

Rachel easily hails a cab. They get in and soon as Rachel is done stating their destination, she turns to Quinn and looks at her, "Then you know this is a big mistake."

"Rachel, this is a decision they have to make together."

Rachel's eyes widen, "Santana doesn't even know what she wants to do with her life."

"That's their problem."

Frustrated, Rachel huffs, "I thought we agreed Santana needed an intervention. What are you even doing here?"

"To be honest, I don't know," Quinn says because that's the truth.

She didn't think twice about packing her bags or getting on that train to New York when she heard about the news. Brittany got the choreographer job; she will be based in Los Angeles.

And she's taking Santana with her.

When Rachel had insisted on giving Santana an intervention, she said yes without any form of hesitation. She's not even sure why but she remembered how scared she was thinking that in a few weeks, Santana won't be an hour and a half away anymore.

Sure, she hasn't showed up for over a year but that never meant she didn't want her friends near.

.

"Seriously, Berry?" Santana asks Rachel, sarcasm lacing in her tone.

Rachel stiffens, knowing well enough that Santana might burst anytime. While the two stand in the middle of the living room, Quinn just sits calmly on the couch, watching the scene in front of her.

They have arrived here a couple of minutes earlier and soon as Santana saw Quinn, she knew right away what Rachel was up to. To Quinn's disappointment, Santana didn't show any kind of excitement when she saw Quinn again. Santana didn't even smile or anything. It didn't even look like she hasn't seen Quinn in over a year.

Quinn's hurt, sure, but she's not one to be a baby. It's her fault after all but she's gonna lie if she said she didn't expect even just a little welcome warmth.

"Santana, you need to think this one through."

"So, you bring in Quinn? To what? To lecture me about the 222s of life?"

Quinn just pouts, she really loved the 222s of life.

_Hey, that was brilliant._

"This girl has not been here for a year, Berry. What makes you think she knows what the hell is going on?" Santana says, not even sparing Quinn a glance.

Quinn sees it though, that butthurt look on Santana's face that she tries to mask with indifference—or her current annoyance with Rachel. Santana does so well with hiding her feelings but Quinn knows her; other times, that's a curse. Most days, Quinn uses it to her advantage.

"You're making a big mistake, Santana!"

_Uh-oh. Wrong move, Rachel. Wrong move._

"Says the girl who almost got married in senior year."

"_Almost, _Santana! Almost!" Rachel yells. "If it hadn't been for Quinn's—"

They both pause—as if the world just stopped spinning at the mention of the accident.

Quinn rolls her eyes. Everybody should probably stop flinching when the accident comes up in a conversation.

"Whatever," Santana says, walking to the dining table where her coat rests. She grabs the coat and starts to put it on, "Whatever _intervention _you two have planned, save it for someone else 'cause I'm done. You can't talk me out of this."

Santana then walks to the door and walks out of the loft.

Quinn sighs.

"Do something, Quinn," Rachel prods.

Left without a choice, Quinn stands and runs after Santana.

.

"Santana!" Quinn calls out.

Santana was about to turn the block when she hears Quinn. "Go home, Barbie!" she yells.

Quinn keeps on running after her despite the chilly air of New York—of course she left her coat inside. It's not like Rachel gave her enough time to button her coat or something.

_Damn it._

Quinn knows Santana has somehow slowed down because in a few moments, she's right behind Santana.

"I'm hungry," Quinn says, testing the waters.

Santana rolls her eyes, "Go back to New Haven and eat whatever it is Ivy League-ers eat."

"I can feel your utmost concern, thank you," Quinn banters, her voice shivering mid-sentence.

The crack in her voice makes Santana turn to her.

"Where the fuck is your coat?"

"Didn't have the time to put it back on," Quinn replies as she rubs her palms together and then puts them over her cheeks.

"Karma's a bitch," Santana says, turning her attention back ahead.

They start walking again with Quinn still trailing Santana.

"I'm not here for Rachel's intervention."

Santana snorts bitterly, "So, what, you just decided to come here and spend time with your _bestfriend_?"

"What's so wrong with that?"

Santana stops walking and turns around to face Quinn. Now, there's the unmasked look of hurt in her eyes, "You were gone for a year, Quinn. You refused to visit us and have claimed to be busy everytime we wanted to see you in Yale. What the fuck are you doing here now?"

Quinn takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the pain that starts building on her knees. Her knees take low temperatures seriously. "Rachel called me. She said you need an intervention."

Santana rolls her eyes so hard that it's almost funny. "I don't fucking need one, Quinn," Santana tells her full of conviction.

"I know," Quinn says, shivering under the cold breeze of New York City. "I'm here for the other reason Rachel called me for."

Santana stares at her for a moment, her features softening every second she spends looking into Quinn's eyes. Then, it quickly goes away, "And that is?"

"She said you need me here."

Something tugs at Quinn's heart with what she just said. It feels like her stomach would drop if ever Santana slams it back to her face.

Why would she need her? Santana's been fine here in New York with Brittany for the past year. Why would she need Quinn now?

Truthfully, Quinn didn't really feel like Santana did. She's felt so irrelevant for so long now that she really doesn't how to be needed anymore.

It is, perhaps, the saddest thing when people grow apart. Life happens and sometimes, there's really no way to fight it.

To her surprise, Santana doesn't deny it.

She just stares at Quinn in the eyes despite the tears that are threatening to betray her. It's in that moment Santana drops her guard. It's in that moment she lets Quinn see her. For a moment there, Quinn thought Santana was going to uncharacteristically burst into tears.

But Santana just grabs her by the wrist and takes her to the nearest diner they can get to.

Later that evening, before they step out of the diner—after Santana had practically forced her to try that huge ass burger—Santana takes her coat off and hands it to Quinn.

Quinn smiles and takes the coat.

She takes it as a positive sign.

.

**LATER THAT NIGHT**

Quinn lays on the other side of Rachel's bed. The brunette is already snoring lightly while Quinn just looks around and thinks how this place is so different from that loft back in Bushwick.

Yes, Rachel had moved out of the loft and into this one-bedroom Manhattan apartment after the debut of _Funny Girl_. Of course, she's now a rising Broadway star and living in one of the most dangerous places in Brooklyn is probably not the best idea.

Rachel had told her she would have taken Kurt and Santana—and Brittany—with her but this is all she can afford for now. And besides, it doesn't seem like Kurt and Santana would want to move out of that precious loft.

It's closer to Blaine and it's closer to that dance studio Brittany works at. It's closer to the diner, too, so yeah. Maybe, it's better this way.

The place though, despite it being so much better, doesn't feel like home. Quinn knows Rachel feels it, too.

Quinn tosses and turns for a few moments just thinking why she's about to spend the weekend here in New York. She's thinking about the rules she made for herself and she thinks about how she's breaking all of them right now.

Her phone beeps and just like what she expected, it's Santana.

_**Asshole.**_

Quinn actually laughs because Santana sometimes.

_**You're welcome, S.**_

Quinn smiles after sending the message.

Coming here, she knew Santana didn't need an intervention. What Santana needs is _direction_. None of them are getting younger and Santana's surrounded by people who know exactly what they're going for.

Santana, on the other hand, is lost.

Quinn doesn't exactly believe that Santana's direction is in those links she emailed her. A pastry school, the police academy, the New York School for the Deaf (to name some)—none of those would send Santana on her way.

None of those will give Santana a reason to stay but it's a start.

Another text.

_**You okay there?**_

Sometimes, it still surprises Quinn how Santana is when she allows herself to care.

_**Comfy and the house smells so much better. Plus, I don't need to worry about an intruder in the middle of the night.**_

Quinn could already feel Santana rolling her eyes at that.

_**Yeah but there's no unhealthy breakfast waiting for you. Berry is a freak.**_

Quinn smiles.

_**Wouldn't mind having a healthy breakfast once a year.**_

The reply is almost instant.

_**I know what you're doing, Q. Stop it. I'm going with Brittany.**_

There it is, the sinking feeling—the anxiety at the thought that Santana won't be in New York just in case her life falls apart.

Somehow, even though their friendship has been nothing but dysfunctional, Quinn couldn't imagine her life with Santana being 3, 000 miles away.

She reads the message again: _I'm going with Brittany_.

The words hurt the more she reads them; so she reads them again until her whole body accepts it. After all, Quinn is a masochist.

Her courage to talk to Santana into staying quickly goes away. She tries to type a lengthy message, like a speech full of reasons why she needs to stay. She deletes it because she knows none of those reasons ever equal to Brittany.

In Santana's life, no one ever really measured to Brittany.

Quinn has learned to accept this a long time ago; that's why she doesn't understand why she even bothered at all.

Before she could send another text, Santana beats her to it.

_**Your career suggestions can't make me stay, Q. I'm sorry but I've made up my mind. There's nothing left for me here.**_

Quinn closes her eyes, trying to fight the tears that's threatening to fall out.

_God, I feel so stupid._

She doesn't know what to say so she replies with the one truth she knows.

_**I know, S. But it was worth a try**_**.**

She then rests her phone on the nightstand.

Maybe, it's also time to rest her case.

..

Meanwhile, back in Bushwick, Santana sits by the dining area as she stares at her laptop, at Quinn's email.

_What an idiot, _Santana thinks to herself.

Quinn has sent her links of workshops, jobs, and schools she can possibly sign up for. Santana laughed when she first saw it but then, she started clicking on the links. She saw how detailed they were. She saw how all of these things are sorted according to what could interest her.

It still amazes her sometimes how well Quinn knows her. Maybe, she has underestimated Quinn.

She sighs as she stares at the email. Santana's biggest problem is that she's always been lazy. She's probably the most ambitious lazy person in this planet, or the laziest ambitious person.

_Whatever_.

She likes to think she's a paradox—she wants the world but she doesn't want to put herself out there. That's why she never really thought about all of these things Quinn just dropped in her email. There are things in this email that she never really considered before—like a music school, or a pastry school; heck, even New York School for the Deaf sounds really interesting right now. It almost makes her laugh how Quinn still remembers how much they both enjoyed that sign language class they secretly signed up for the summer before junior year.

She will never admit it out loud but they both liked learning sign language. Again, she will never admit that out loud and neither will Quinn. It's not like learning sign language is a bad thing, it's a very good thing actually; what they'll never admit though is that they did and enjoyed it together.

Santana just stares at the email and thinks that this is Quinn Fabray's version of an intervention. Subtle, real classy, and there's not too much need for talking. It's a classic Quinn Fabray move—and Santana is impressed.

_**I know, S. But it was worth a try**_**.**

Santana bites at her bottom lip as she feels her heart sink because Quinn _tried_.

Quinn has a way of saying things without really saying them. Where Santana is all talk and less work, Quinn is all action before words. Her knowledge of the Quinn Fabray semantics tells her that this email?

This email is Quinn's other word for '_stay'_.

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[Let's talk on Tumblr shall we? Find me: emilystark21barelylegal]

Reviews?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **So yeah, wow. The response is totally unexpected. Wow, thank you guys for the follows, the favs, and the reviews. I was so nervous publishing a story again. Sophomore jitters are kind of a big fear of mine (you know, given that this is my second multi-chapter Quinntana fic). But yea. Thank you all!

Here's a new chapter! I hope you like it. Typo errors are purely mine. I'm so sorry.

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**[Two: Somehow, some things never changed]**

In a few years, during a time when everything is different, Santana would look back at yesterday as a hint that everything is going to change. Perhaps it's true what they say, everything that's supposed to happen will happen in the right place at the right time.

"Columbia University School of the Arts," Santana reads from the very same email she spent all of last night thinking about.

Rachel only chuckles, for someone who claims to _not care, _Santana sure has spent a large amount of time this morning just weighing her options.

They're at Rachel's apartment with Santana sitting by the kitchen bar in front of her laptop. Rachel, on the other hand, is preparing one of her many healthy breakfast recipes.

"Yeah, because I've always liked to paint," Santana mutters to herself, still scrolling through the _ridiculous _email Quinn sent her.

Rachel laughs.

"The New York School of Interior Design," Santana reads.

Rachel snorts.

"Yeah, because I've always wanted to be an interior designer," Santana whines.

"Santana, you really have to stop looking at all the things that don't interest you in that email," Rachel says as she hand-washes whatever that leafy vegetable is. "I read it, it's very comprehensive. And hey," she pauses, grabbing a bowl from the top shelf, "You can draw, albeit not as good as Quinn can, but had you wanted to pursue mastering that skill, Columbia would be a good place."

Santana only rolls her eyes, not having any plans to admit Rachel's point.

"There's a list of medical schools here, Berry!"

Rachel laughs again, "Your father is a doctor."

"Ugh!" Santana groans, slamming her laptop shut. "This is ridiculous."

Rachel gives her an amused look, "I don't understand why this bothers you. You made it very clear that there's no way anyone can change your mind, so what's the big deal? You're still leaving anyway. Let it go, Santana."

That silences her for a moment. Again, Rachel's got a point but she will never admit that out loud.

"Whatever," she says instead. "Why are you suddenly so accepting?"

Rachel stops whatever she was doing and just sets her hands on the kitchen island. She looks at Santana, "The reason I called Quinn is because I know she's the only one that can stop you. It didn't work. So, maybe it's about time to accept the fact that you're leaving. I've done my part."

"Quinn can't stop me," Santana says, a little distant.

Rachel shrugs, "Apparently."

Silence.

Santana is contemplating and Rachel is just waiting for her to say something. Somehow, living with each other has helped them develop an unspoken agreement where no one forces anyone to say something. It's a weird kind of friendship, especially given the whole understudy mess last year, but it works for them. Neither of them will ever admit it, though.

"It's not that I'll stop talking to you and Hummel. There's Facebook and Skype, you can always still talk to me in case there's another pregnancy scare."

Rachel rolls her eyes, "You don't get it, Santana."

"I do, I get it."

Rachel shakes her head, "It's not even about you going all the way to the other side of the country for Brittany. I know we'll never lose communication because I will never let that happen. It's just that," she sighs, "you love New York, Santana."

It renders Santana speechless.

"You belong here and please don't kill me but it seems to me like you're giving up."

"There's nothing for me here, Berry."

"Have you even really tried searching?"

"This is the talk you've been wanting us to have, isn't it?"

Rachel shakes her head, "No. I don't need you to talk anymore, the point is pretty clear to me, to us."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Quinn came here and gave you options; options so comprehensive that not even I could pull it off. And you're still leaving. You're still leaving despite this. Honestly, this is the most anyone I've seen do for you and that includes me and Kurt. None of these is enough to make you stay, I don't see how a talk like this could work a miracle."

Santana sighs, "Some of the things in that email are interesting, to be honest."

Rachel nods, "I didn't even know you liked to write songs. I only figured because she included a songwriting workshop in that email."

"I lost my touch with writing songs a long time ago," Santana admits sadly.

Rachel shrugs. "I just don't want you to go just because you feel like you don't have a choice," she says before pulling out a loaf of wheat bread and starts slicing it.

Silence. Again.

_God, I'm so messed up_.

She contemplates.

The decision to go with Brittany was almost automatic. They got back together after so many times they've broken up—that has got to mean something, right? That has got to mean they're meant to be or they're soulmates or something.

She wasn't about to mess up what everyone calls a _happy ending_. Where there's Brittany, there's Santana. She has lived her life this way for so long that she doesn't exactly know another way. Besides, it's not like Brittany asked her. Her girlfriend just came home one day and said, "We're going to LA, San!"

And Santana's not exactly a bad person to pull the carpet under Brittany's feet.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question, Santana?" Rachel asks when Santana wouldn't say anything.

Santana chuckles, "Since when did we ask permission to invade private thoughts?"

Rachel rolls her eyes, somehow a habit she picked from Santana, "Do you really want to go?"

Santana's response is automatic, like on remote control, "I love Brittany."

"That's not what I asked you."

Santana just looks at her.

See, Rachel has always been supportive when it comes to Santana's love life. She rooted for her and Brittany in high school. She rooted for her and Dani, hell, she even rooted for her and that cheerleader from Louisville.

But Santana cannot deny that Rachel has not been _that supportive _when she got back together with Brittany. Rachel even tried talking to her about all the progress she's disregarding. Santana heard her but she didn't listen.

Still, Rachel has been civil with Brittany for the most part, trying to be that rational person that she is. Everytime they'll go out as a group, Rachel would socialize and talk to Brittany like the old days. But Santana is not stupid, she can sense that Rachel doesn't approve of their _happy ending_.

She thinks Santana is settling; but she has long stopped trying to call out Santana for the decisions she makes.

Santana sighs, "Look, Berry. I love Brittany and I will support her dream no matter what."

"What about your dreams?"

"I don't have one, Berry."

"You just haven't figured it out yet."

"That's the point. Maybe, I'll find it in LA. And besides, Brittany has always been there for me. It's about time I return the favor."

Rachel looks at her with an expression that's dangerously close to sympathy, "Do you really love her? Or do you just love her because you feel like you owe her that?"

After all this time, it's Rachel's honesty that stuns Santana.

Before she could answer, the door opens as Quinn and Kurt walk in with cups of coffee in their hands. They're laughing at some story Kurt is telling and Quinn's laugh is enough to take Santana's attention.

Quinn smiles as she walks over to Santana.

"Half-caf vanilla latte with Irish cream, extra sugar, extra hot since I walked two blocks for this. Please tell me I got it right," Quinn tells Santana as she hands her a medium-sized cup of coffee.

Santana just stares at Quinn for a moment, still overcome with emotions from the talk she and Rachel just had; and also amazed at the fact that Quinn still knows how she wants her coffee after all these years.

"Yeah," she says silently. "Yeah, you got it right."

Quinn beams before walking back to Kurt and resumes whatever it is they're talking about. Santana just sips on the coffee and exchanges looks with Rachel.

She sighs.

_I am in big trouble_.

.

Her friends are the most predictable people in the whole universe, Santana thinks.

Kurt told Blaine that Quinn is in town so naturally, Blaine told Sam who told Artie who told Mercedes who told the entirety of New York—and the next thing Santana knows, Rachel is cooking dinner for everyone because a sudden mini-reunion will happen just about two hours from now.

For some weird, unexplainable reason, Santana dreads that.

Santana dreads that because Mercedes told Brittany and now, Brittany is taking an early out from work.

And Santana hasn't thought about how she's going to handle Quinn and Brittany in the same room—because that Ohio reunion a year ago was one thing.

The situation right now is entirely different.

She doesn't know why.

But something about Quinn coming back changed the _happy ending _story for real.

.

"I am feeling claustrophobic because of all of these people in this shoebox you call a house, Berry," Santana says, still from her place by the kitchen counter. It's probably the best place in Rachel's house because you have perfect view of the kitchen and the living room.

So yes, it actually kinda drives her insane that while Rachel is preparing yet another one of her many herbal dinner recipes, the other kids are having a jamming session led, of course, by the biggest duo disaster Glee Club ever came up with: Blaine and Sam.

They call themselves _Blam _and everytime someone mentions it, Santana just wants to punch them in the face. No one is saying _Blam _in front of Santana now because everybody knows what _almost _happened to Artie the last time he said that about eight months ago.

In her defense, it only _almost _happened. She only _almost _punched Artie.

"They are so predictable," Santana says again with an eye roll. They're now singing "We Can't Stop," and of course Santana can't deny it's better that the original because God knows how much time has passed and yet they still harmonize like they're still the same old Glee Club.

"You have to admit it's fun," Rachel says as she looks at the group and smiles affectionately.

Santana rolls her eyes because no, she will not admit that.

"Well, I hope your food is fun because I didn't stick around to eat leaves."

Rachel just smilingly shakes her head, "Please, Santana. You'll stay here even if I prepare you the most horrible vegan burgers."

"No, I will not."

"Yes, you will because you missed Q."

Santana is speechless for the nth time that day. Geez, hanging around Rachel's kitchen is changing her.

She doesn't counter Rachel's comment and instead says, "Don't call her 'Q.' I'm the only one allowed to 'Q' her."

"You have not sounded this possessive since senior year," Rachel teases.

Sometimes, Santana thinks Rachel sees things differently because that was not _possessive_.

_Was it?_

Out of nowhere, Quinn interrupts their conversation. "You sat here in this stool whole day," Quinn tells Santana. "If it just wasn't so impossible, I'd start to believe you like hanging out with Rachel."

Santana rolls her eyes, "I'm just making sure she won't feed me those horrible tofu burgers she loves to eat."

Quinn smiles, not buying Santana's alibi one bit, "Right."

"What?"

Quinn just laughs and reaches out for the pitcher of water on top of the bar. She also reaches for a glass and starts pouring.

Santana doesn't know but she charges it to habit when she hops off the chair and walks to one of the cabinets to get a beverage coaster. She hands the coaster to Quinn and the blonde accepts it so casually, as if they've been doing this dance their whole life.

Rachel notices.

And her heart warms just as much as it breaks because Santana and Quinn work so fluidly together, effortlessly so. It makes her wonder how many years it takes to build a friendship like that.

Rachel was about to ask Quinn about her fixation with using coasters when she notices something else.

Just after Quinn is done drinking water, she puts her glass on top of the bar (using the coaster, of course) and then turns to their friends who're still singing.

Then it happens.

Santana sits back on that stool and Quinn just _simply _gravitates toward Santana as if it's the most uncomplicated thing in the world. She puts her arm around Santana's shoulder and the brunette snakes her arm around Quinn's waist just as easily. They watch their friends goof around and they laugh with them but it's obvious, in the way they're tangled up in each other, that something has changed between them.

Rachel would've been shocked if it wasn't so beautiful.

A thought crosses her mind.

_Do they even know how cute they look together if they would just stop being snarky all the time?_

One thought leads to another because Quinn grabs Santana's hand and drags her to join their friends in the living room. Santana just lets Quinn be and that's when Rachel's eyes widen.

_Please tell me I was just imagining all of that_.

.

So, this is how it happens.

They're all having dinner—Rachel, Santana, Quinn, Blaine, Kurt, Artie, Mercedes—and they're talking about Mike's new girlfriend when Brittany announces her arrival.

The door to the apartment opens—because yes, Santana, Brittany and Kurt all have keys to Rachel's apartment—and the room is immediately surrounded by Brittany's bouncing energy.

"Quinn!" Brittany shrieks as she drops her duffel bag to the floor and _runs _to Quinn to hug her.

Quinn just laughs because really, no normal person can actually utter anything when Brittany Pierce is bear-hugging them.

What really happens is that Santana just watches the scene in front of her and her heart beats so fast she couldn't keep up with it.

_What is wrong with me?_

She downs her glassful of water in one try.

"Oh my God, Quinn. You've grown so much," Brittany says when they break the hug.

"You too," Quinn says as she sits back on her chair and giggles.

It's a nervous giggle. Santana can tell.

_Does she feel it too?_

Brittany immediate walks to the purposely empty seat next to Santana.

Something happens again and it's so weird that Santana knows Rachel noticed it, too. Brittany makes a show of kissing Santana on the cheek, one that lingers.

Brittany never does that. Sure, she's affectionate and all but she never goes all territorial on Santana in front of their friends.

It's a first and even Santana is surprised.

Somehow, the air shifts.

The tension is subtle. It's barely there but it's there.

"Where's Puck?" Brittany asks casually and everybody suddenly realizes no one has asked Quinn about him yet.

What everybody misses is that Brittany also never asks that question. She's clueless most of the time, sure, but Brittany never asks about anyone absent unless they're supposed to be present. The question makes Santana turn to Brittany who reaches out for the veggie pasta as if she didn't just make everything awkward for everyone.

Thankfully, everyone's waiting for Quinn to answer.

Quinn is obviously surprised at the question so she cannot answer right away.

Mercedes pries, of course, "Yeah, you know I haven't seen pictures of you two on Facebook. That's where I get my dish."

Quinn smiles and then just tries to proceed finishing her meal, "Puck and I broke up."

There's a silent, collective gasp from everyone because _yes_, Quinn has been that distant. Quinn has been gone that long for them not to know about this.

She follows up, "We broke up about five months ago."

The only one not shocked is Santana.

She knows.

And no, she didn't almost book a trip to Georgia to kill him when he confessed to her about cheating on Quinn.

"Why?" Kurt asks, ever the uninterested one.

Quinn smiles sadly, "It didn't work out. Puck and I, we're…" she pauses, "…different."

It's a lie.

Santana knows that Puck called Quinn to tell her he had slept with a hooker under the influence of alcohol and she broke up with him right there and then.

Santana waited for Quinn to call her and tell her about it but Quinn never did.

And Santana thinks that maybe, some people never really change.

Puck had drunken sex with another woman again. Quinn is still too proud to call Santana. And Santana still cannot believe they had actually gotten back together in the first place.

She was being sarcastic last year when she said she _liked the pairing_. She's actually a bit surprised no one picked up on it.

"I'm okay, you guys," Quinn says and Santana believes her. Quinn is glowing. There's no denying that. She's moved on and Santana briefly wonders if there's a particular reason for it.

Rachel then speaks up, just one bit of a pitch higher, "Way to drop the big gun, Brit."

There's annoyance in the way Rachel said it. Santana senses it. She can't blame her because Brittany is acting weird.

"I didn't know they broke up," Brittany says, her full attention now on Quinn. There's more to the look Brittany is giving her. Santana, Quinn—and heck, probably even Rachel—know it. "I'm sorry, Quinn."

Quinn shakes her head apologetically, "No, B. It's okay. I should've just told you guys or something."

Rachel shakes her head, "Silly. It's not like you have to issue a press release for every important moment of your life."

Quinn gently laughs and thank God for Rachel Berry because she says something about a recent celebrity break up to change the topic. And it works.

Santana just shifts on her seat uncomfortably as she watches Brittany through her peripheral vision. First, Brittany took an early out to join them early even though they have agreed to meet Quinn tomorrow for breakfast. Then, she asks about Puck. Then, she gives Quinn this strange look Santana's never seen her throw at anyone before.

So yes, this is how it happens.

This is how the story actually starts to happen.

..

There are certain moments in our lives that tell us exactly where the roads started to branch out. Like, one moment you're certain this is how your life is gonna go and the next minute, you see all these intersections right in front of you, tempting you to take a new path.

There are the obvious transitions like birthdays and weddings; the loudest moments that tell you it's time to go and take that new road.

But most of our lives are composed of small, quiet moments of change—those two pivotal seconds of the day where you just decide to try this new café down the block; or the moment where you decided to wear pink for a change. These moments, we have no idea how much impact they can make.

To Santana, it happens tonight—those two pivotal seconds of the day she decides to acknowledge what's been bubbling up inside her since Valentine's last year.

Brittany and Santana are the last to leave that night. The awkwardness of dinner is long gone now, thanks to the many stories about Glee Club, and Funny Girl, and college. Rachel, Quinn, Santana, and Brittany are somehow good together—a friendship that would have been so interesting. But just like any horribly written TV show, some things happen and it's not always the protagonists' fault.

"We will see you both tomorrow at _The Brunch Lady_," Rachel tells Santana and Brittany as she and Quinn walk them to the door.

"I hate the name of that place. It's like a bad lesbian pun when you say it," Brittany says with a small smile.

"It's not a bad lesbian pun, Brit. It just happens to be the only place that serves vegan waffles."

"Vegan waffles? How?" Quinn says in utter disbelief. "Waffles. Flour."

Santana laughs freely, "You have no idea about the things people can come up with when they're desperate."

Rachel groans, "Ugh. Just make sure you're there early tomorrow, okay?"

"Geez, Rachel. We will be there," Santana says laughingly. "We still have to talk about the profile we'll use for the Internet dating site we're signing you up for."

"Santana Lopez, I am a rising Broadway star! I will not sign up for such thing."

"The keyword is _rising, _Berry. It means you have not risen yet."

They all just laugh as Rachel just rolls her eyes.

"Come on, S. You gotta stop picking on Rachel," Brittany calls out, tugging on Santana's arm, after the laughs die down.

"Whatever," Santana dismisses her. "Actually, B," Santana turns to Brittany, "Could you and Berry hail a cab? I'm just gonna have some words with Barbie here."

There's subtle hesitation on Brittany's part. Santana knows there's more to it but the other girl hides it well. "Okay," Brittany simply says as she takes Rachel by the hand and they take the stairs.

Once Brittany and Rachel are gone, Santana turns to Quinn.

"You okay, Blondie?"

Quinn chuckles, "You're actually concerned?"

Santana rolls her eyes, "You're actually a bitch."

Quinn laughs.

"What?"

"New York changed you, S," Quinn says with a smile. "I actually don't know what _S _stands for anymore. Does it stand for Santana or does it stand for Softie?"

"Shut the fuck up."

Quinn just laughs.

_Ugh_.

"It's just that, B sorta cornered you earlier. I don't know if you're done being a stuck up bitch and for once decide to let your friends know about some updates in your life."

"Can't believe I'm about to say this but," she supresses a laugh, "thank you for the concern, Softie. But I'm okay. Visiting New York helped me a lot."

"Good to know because I will not allow you cry on my shoulder if this is about Puck."

Quinn just rolls her eyes.

"Okay, I gotta go. I'm afraid Brit would faint if Berry's talking too much again."

Quinn just laughs, "See you tomorrow. Today's been kinda fun."

"You stayed indoors and refused a tour, you boring ass."

"It's cold outside and my knees are weak. Besides, you were here, too, all day."

They just stare at each other for a moment and then Quinn says it.

Quinn says the words that introduce to Santana to a new intersection in her life.

"It's weird, you know."

"What is?"

"I missed you," Quinn says and then smiles.

There it is—a small, quiet moment of change that completely alters the way Santana's story is written.

The thing is Santana has been okay. She has been okay, good even, at ignoring whatever it is that lies at the pit of her stomach ever since Valentine's with Quinn happened.

She has been okay until Quinn said, "I missed you," and all Santana could think of is that she missed her, too.

_Fuck_.

* * *

So, I forgot to mention this before (thanks to reviewer cuttiekhel for mentioning it), the title of this fic is from an old song of the same title my Michael Murphy (yes, too old). You'll get the gist of this story when you listen to that song.

So, thoughts?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **So yes, this took a long time. Sorry! I had a lot of things going on. But here's another chapter and this kinda stirs the story forward. Anyway, I made some format changes and it's not that important but yeah. HAHA. Another thing, I've only written in Quinn's POV once before I started this story. Explaining Quinn feels so personal to me because I can relate to her in so many ways but I can try, I guess.

***Note: There are characters in this chapter that are already familiar to you. Just know that their backstory in this fic is not exactly their story in the series they came from***

* * *

**THREE  
**_Even time hasn't cooled the flame_**  
**

_._

Growing up in a household as cold and condescending as the Fabray's, Quinn has learned one thing: the higher the stakes, the bigger the loss. That's why she's operated all her life in one precise motion, predictable and relatively easy—because it has lesser risks, it has fewer chances for disappointment.

Being raised this way taught Quinn that when you're torn in between your head and your heart, you must always choose the option you want less. That way, it'll hurt less. That way, it will not destroy you.

"This is a big mistake," she hears the voice from the other line as she steps into the cold grounds of Central Station. She's here again.

Back in New York.

Back in this loop.

"I know," she says because _she knows_.

Quinn always knows.

See, there are only four instances in her life that she has violated the above stated rule she made for herself. First was when she slept with Puck. Second was when she texted while driving. Third is when she hooked up with Santana.

And the fourth instance?

That's today.

"She calls you once and not even five minutes later, you drop everything and take the first train to New York," the voice says again. There's no hint of judgment in it. Just the plain old scolding-sarcasm kind of thing. "You drop everything including my homework."

"I told you to email me the damn thing."

"That's not the point."

"What's the point, Hanna?" she asks the person on the other line. Hanna is her roommate; the one that lasted this long.

"The point is," a pause. "You have to stop this, Quinn. You're a beautiful, smart, talented girl who doesn't even bat an eyelash when I ask you to do my Calculus homework. Anybody would be lucky to have you."

"I didn't sign up for your advice column."

"Why do I even put up with you?"

Quinn smiles at this. For all its faults, Yale has really given the chance to start over with her life and that includes having new friends. Granted, she can only name two people but they're _her _friends. When you're in college, it doesn't really matter how many friends you have. Most days, it's all about having someone you can make your way to when you enter a room full of people you haven't met before.

"I love you too, Hanna."

"Don't get soft on me now, Quinn. Now is not the time."

Quinn only laughs as she walks amongst the sea of people making their way out of the station.

"Look, Quinn," she hears a sigh, "Em and I, we're just concerned. Okay? You spent a lot of time working on yourself. Don't be that person again."

"What if this is who I really am?"

"The one that keeps on pinning on someone who: exhibit A, has a girlfriend; and exhibit B, only sees you as a drunken hookup? That's not you."

Quinn only sighs.

"You aced the hardest, most challenging exam known to Yale last year."

This time, she laughs, "It was the stupid Physics Diagnostic Test, Han."

"Uh, yeah. Exactly. Physics."

She laughs, "Whatever."

"Just," Hanna sighs again, genuinely concerned. "Be careful, okay? Remember that you're there for the weekend because your theater friend got a dog."

"You make it sound so lousy."

"Because it is a lousy excuse."

Quinn rolls her eyes, "Bye, Hanna. Tell Emily I said hi."

Emily is the girl from the room down the hall. Hanna and Quinn met Emily when there was a power outage in freshman year. They've been friends since then.

"Oh she's here. I've been on speaker the whole time," Hanna says laughingly.

"Hi, Quinn."

Quinn laughs, "Hi, Em." She shakes her head because Hanna sometimes, "I gotta go."

"Yeah, yeah."

.

She's already in front of the loft's door when she starts to regret it.

_Ugh._

It's not that Quinn is stupid.

She's just really infuriatingly stubborn.

.

"Wow," Quinn says as she stares at Rachel and _her dog_, slightly bewildered. "She really has a dog."

Kurt is sitting next to her by the dining table and across them sits Santana. They all have their eyes on Rachel who is by the living room, petting her dog.

"She named him Elijah," Kurt says.

"That is the most Jewish thing Berry has done all her life," Santana comments.

Rachel turns to them, "You know I can hear you three, right?"

"I can't hear you over the dog virus you're spreading in my home," Santana says.

"Oh, please, Santana," Rachel says as she stands up and makes her way to them. "It's not like dog virus can out-gross your bathroom."

Quinn laughs.

"Ouch," Santana says, mocking a pained expression.

"That's offensive," Kurt butts in. "I live here, too."

Santana chuckles, "Yeah. It's not like you've been home for the past three nights."

Rachel takes the seat next to Santana and gives Kurt a look, "You and Blaine have been spending loads of time in their apartment now that Artie is in Boston."

"Can't imagine the amount of gay porn—"

"Santana!" Quinn calls out with a laugh.

Santana shrugs, "What? I'm just saying, all gays do it."

Kurt nods, exaggerated, "Yeah, I bet. You and Brittany aren't as silent as you think you are."

"Well, that escalated quickly," Rachel says.

They all laugh.

Quinn couldn't help but look away.

It's not just the Brittany-Santana sex reference.

It's this moment itself. No matter how much she convinces herself that she is part of this moment, she just couldn't connect. She's the guest in this house; and though the trio has done such a good job not to make her feel leftout, she still feels like it.

She feels like it because it's simply how it is.

She pushes it down to her subconscious, mostly because she really can't do anything about it.

She's here because Santana called her. Rachel got a dog and that's alarming because Rachel Berry and pets? No. Just no.

When the laughter dies down, Quinn asks, "So what's up with the dog, Rach?"

Rachel smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes, "My fathers said I should get a pet since, you know, I'm alone at the apartment."

It's right there that Quinn realizes what's happening.

Rachel is lonely.

Here she is in a city of eight million, living her dream and yet, she lives alone in a small apartment away from her friends. She has no one to come home to unlike her friends who have Brittany and Blaine. It must be so lonely.

Somehow, Quinn understands that.

Quinn just looks at Rachel as she tells more stories about how she got Elijah, a golden retriever, from the shelter. His one eye is blind and he has a lot of medications for his diabetes. Quinn thinks that somehow, Elijah will help Rachel.

After all, Rachel always loves to take care of another soul. She likes the feeling of being able to help someone or some dog.

It's kinda sad though because right now, Quinn thinks it's Rachel who needs saving.

"Hey!" announces a fifth person, entering the loft.

At that, Quinn's previous thoughts are easily replaced by how she needs saving, too.

"Brit," Santana greets her as she stands to kiss her girlfriend who easily made her way to them. There it is again—the slight panic in Santana's eyes when Brittany comes around. Quinn doesn't understand it but she knows there's something going on in Santana's head.

"Quinn, I didn't know you were here," her energy immediately wears off the moment she acknowledges Quinn.

"Yeah, well you know now," she tries to banter, nervous laugh threating to escape her throat.

Santana beams at Quinn and this smile? It reaches her eyes.

"I called her," Santana says effortlessly and it takes Quinn's breath away how natural that sounds. "I told her about Rachel's dog."

Brittany gives Quinn a look. She couldn't figure it out but it's not a soft look. It's also not very friendly. "And you came here all the way from Yale to see Rachel's dog?" Brittany asks with a bitter chuckle.

Quinn doesn't answer. It takes her aback, the way Brittany's been acting.

She's not stupid, okay? She noticed it the last time she was here. She tries not to think about it too much. For once, she tries not to make it about her.

Kurt clears his throat to break the tension. "Well, it's more of Rachel with the dog than the dog alone," he tries.

Quinn laughs her fakest laugh because no, she doesn't need any more of this drama. Whatever is happening to Brittany, that's not her business.

_It's not you, it's not you_. She chants secretly to herself.

At some point, she almost believes it.

.

It's a few hours later does Quinn notice the stack of boxes that rest at the corner of the room. It dawns on her that Brittany and Santana have been packing, getting ready for the _big move_. They haven't talked about it, not really. Quinn doesn't think they ever will.

She approaches Santana when the brunette is alone by the living room, watching a rerun of Modern Family. Rachel is in the kitchen, preparing some food while Kurt asked Brittany to accompany him for a walk. Quinn knows Kurt is doing something to ease the tension; and Quinn's not sure if she wants to know Brittany's reasons.

"When's the big day?" Quinn settles for this question because it's a habit she developed, to ask the question that matters less.

Santana sighs heavily, "Two weeks from now."

"Not even for Thanksgiving?" Quinn asks, trying to keep her hurt to herself.

_I'm so pathetic._

Santana nods sadly but she doesn't take her eyes off the TV, "We'll celebrate the whole thing with Sam and Mercedes. Shouldn't be so bad."

"I'm sure it will be fine," Quinn reassures her as she takes the seat next to her.

"How's Yale?"

"Good," she replies. "Can't believe I'm graduating next year."

Santana smiles; this one, too, reaches her eyes, "Can't wait for your first acting project."

Quinn laughs, "I switched programs."

This time, Santana turns to her fast, "What? When?"

"Sophomore year."

"Why didn't you tell me? Or anyone?"

"No one really asked me," she says because it's true. No one really reached out to her except for the couple of times they needed her to come back to Lima or give Rachel the 222s of life intervention. She doesn't blame them, really. Friendships fall apart and that's just how the cycle of life works.

"Well, I'm asking you now, Sherlock."

Quinn shrugs, "I switched to Philosophy. It's what I've always wanted."

Santana is silent for a while before she asks, "But why did you take Drama?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was me, keeping a piece of high school to myself."

It's also her, settling for the easier choice because it'll hurt less if she fails.

Santana chuckles, "So, how's that brain of yours doing now that you've gone all mental in Yale?"

Santana sounds happy and proud. Quinn tries not to believe it.

"My brain feels used."

Santana laughs and it makes Quinn's whole body ache. It's a beautiful sound and as she looks at Santana, Quinn decides _happy _is a good look on her, too.

"Good for you."

Quinn just smiles.

"So, what are your big plans next year?" Santana asks, her voice lacing with interest.

"Nothing really, I'd hop straight in for my Master's."

"Woah," Santana says. "You're gonna study again?"

Quinn nods as she presses her lips together.

"You really have your shit together, don't you?"

"Not really."

"You have plans for the future."

"That doesn't mean I have my shit together. I don't."

Santana shrugs, "Between the two of us, you're more… _together _than I am."

"Funny because it doesn't feel like it."

_Silence_.

"Congrats, Quinn. I'm really happy for you."

"Thank you."

"I will save up to attend your graduation party so I can humiliate you with my presence. Not even a college diploma can take me away."

Quinn smiles sadly, "Too bad I don't have it now, right?"

_Silence, again_.

"I'm so—"

"Don't apologize for anything, Santana. Just try not to be one of those junkies," she smiles because it's easier this way. It's gonna be easier for Quinn to let it go if she doesn't hear any of Santana's explanations. She doesn't need to know. She doesn't want to because her mind will immediately generate counter-arguments; reasons why Santana shouldn't go.

And Quinn cannot go there because at the end of the day, she'll just end up asking Santana, _"What about me?"_

Santana laughs, "Oh please. If I wanted to be a junkie, I might as well be a junkie here."

Quinn laughs, too.

.

Dinner that night was full of stories about dogs. It's just Kurt, Rachel, and her.

For some reason, Brittany suddenly wanted to take Santana out on a date.

Quinn tries to ignore that weird feeling in her stomach everytime she remembers Brittany saying, "I want to have dinner alone with you tonight." Quinn also feels it everytime she remembers Brittany leaning in and whispering to Santana's ears. They giggle silently.

Quinn remembers the final look Brittany gave her before they left for their _date_. She suddenly remembers that it isn't the first time Brittany looked at her like there's a million thoughts swimming in her head, like she wants to say something but can't. She was on the receiving end of this look exactly 19 days ago when Quinn visited for the first time in a long time.

_It's not you, it's not you_. She chants secretly to herself.

She doesn't believe it one bit but what the hell is real anymore?

Brittany is different.

And Quinn just really, really wants to start punching things.

.

Hours later, when Kurt, Brittany, and Santana are fast asleep. Quinn joins Rachel by the couch.

They stayed the night at the loft because Rachel missed the couch and now, they're sitting there, just the two of them. The brunette brought out Santana's bottle of whiskey; they don't even bother for glasses. They just pass it back and forth, not caring one bit about sharing a bottle.

They're both messed up, both not wanting to talk about it.

"Do you miss him?" Quinn asks. Maybe, it's what they call _alcohol courage_.

"Finn?"

"Yeah."

"Every day."

They're speaking silently, voices low not because someone might hear. It's mostly because it's the logical thing to do.

Rachel takes a huge sip from the bottle and then passes it to Quinn, "Sometimes, I think I see him the crowd when I perform."

Quinn just stares at her.

"Sometimes, I like to believe he's there."

Quinn thinks about Santana; mostly because it's all she's ever done for the past 19 days.

"It makes me feel braver, you know. Thinking he's just somewhere, watching over me."

"I'm pretty sure he is."

Rachel laughs as Quinn passes the bottle to her, "He's always been kind of stalker-ish."

They laugh at that, both secretly recognizing it's the first time the two of them talk about Finn's death. It's like a form of goodbye; and also the start of something else—a legitimate friendship, maybe.

"You know, if you feel alone or whatever, you can visit me any time."

"I tried, Quinn. I reached out but you were just… detached."

Quinn nods, "I'm sorry."

"No," Rachel says as she smiles. "We all deal with our mess in our own little ways."

"Thank you, Rachel."

"For what?"

"For inviting me back in your life."

"We all need a friend, Quinn."

Quinn takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, "You're such a bastard you know that, right?"

"I resent that," Rachel says as she gives Quinn a playful punch on the arm.

Quinn giggles. They're both tipsy but these are still sober thoughts.

"I know what you did," Quinn says and Rachel looks at her. "You've been telling me you called me here for Santana but it's not really just for Santana, is it? All this time, you've been doing this for me."

Rachel shrugs, "I've always known you were the smart one."

"Rachel, I'm being serious."

Rachel nods, "You save each other. You make each other better."

Quinn just nods, not really prepared to take that in.

"You save me, too. It feels right to have you back around."

"I feel that, too."

"God, we're so messed up."

"You're Jewish, Rachel."

Rachel laughs, "Stop the Jewish jokes."

"Okay, okay. But you're right, we're so messed up."

_Silence._

Rachel scoots closer to Quinn and puts her head on her shoulder.

Rachel sighs the heaviest Quinn's heard in such a long time, "I'm so lonely, Quinn."

"I know."

"I feel like I'm just going around circles; like my life is just a matter of—"

"—making it through the day without crying?"

"Like that."

"I know how that feels. I've seen it on TV."

Rachel laughs, lightly smacking Quinn's leg.

"Tell me something that'll make me feel better, Quinn. Like, something that's also messed up."

"Can't," Quinn humors. "I'm perfect."

Rachel laughs again, "Yale has taught you some sense of humor. I like it."

Then, it just comes down like an avalanche. She didn't even plan on saying it out loud but shit happens.

"I slept with someone," Quinn admits as she swallows hard.

Rachel doesn't stir or move or look at Quinn in that dramatic way of hers. Quinn could tell she's suddenly tense but Rachel, being the sensitive human being that she is, just patiently waits for her to continue. "It was a one night stand."

"And?"

Quinn releases the breath she didn't know she was holding, "I woke up first."

Rachel waits.

"And I wanted to run but I didn't. I ordered breakfast in bed for two and went back to sleep."

She didn't even notice that her tears are now falling. Rachel just listens.

"I woke up alone."

She hears Rachel sniff. Quinn thinks Rachel knows.

Quinn didn't want to but her thoughts lead her back to that night. Her thoughts lead her back to the night she spent with Santana, doing the deed more times than they have planned; more sober than they can ever admit.

She remembers herself asking, _"So, what happens next?"_

Most stories of one night stands end after both people have gone to sleep. Nothing ever really happens next, everyone moves on.

_So, what happens next?_

Quinn ordered breakfast in bed for two. Quinn stayed.

Quinn woke up alone.

That's what happened next.

..

Unbeknownst to Quinn and Rachel, Santana had been lying awake in her bed beside Brittany. She's staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the feeling of the NYU Steinhardt pamphlet resting under her pillow.

She's been awake the whole time.

Just about awake enough to hear the whole thing.

* * *

Thoughts?


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Okay, I know I suck, I admit this and I'm sorry. This took way too long. But here it is anyway and thank you for your patience. Thank you for reviewing and liking, and taking your precious time to read. You all are so sweet.

Warning: (1) long chapter and (2) there may or may not be a slight cliffhanger.

* * *

**FOUR**  
_Someday they'd meet again  
And have a need for more than reminiscing_

.

It's Rachel's stupid 90s playlist that wakes up Santana the next morning.

Actually no, it's not a 90s playlist. It's an S Club 7 playlist.

_S Club 7_.

"What the fuck, Berry?" she yells as she hastily stands up from the bed to the kitchen where the sound seems to be coming from.

_Don't stop never give up, hold your head high and reach the top_.

Predictably, Rachel is singing along as she sits by the living room, blow-drying her hair.

Santana walks over to Rachel's laptop and pauses the song.

"What is your problem, Santana?" Rachel asks, slightly annoyed.

"My problem is your music blaring into my ears so early in the morning!"

Rachel rolls her eyes, something she has picked up from Santana, "You'd probably know it's way past 10 in the morning if you had bothered to check the clock before you ambushed my S Club 7 appreciation day."

Annoyed, Santana looks at the wall clock and sees that it is, indeed, half past 10.

"Doesn't matter, stop this," she says anyway, gesturing wildly with her hands.

Rachel stands from the couch, walks over to her laptop and looks Santana in the eyes as she presses the play button.

_Dream of falling in love, everything you've been thinking of._

"Ugh!" she groans loudly and Rachel just smiles in victory.

"There's still coffee over there, serve yourself some or might as well pull the stick out of your ass," Rachel says and it kind of takes Santana aback 'cause Rachel never really argues back. Rachel knows how cranky Santana gets when she just woke up.

Santana looks around and notices that everyone's gone.

"Where is everybody?"

"Brit left for work, Kurt for dance class, and Quinn for Yale. Kurt allowed me stay and borrow his hair dryer."

The mention of Quinn's name takes Santana back to last night—and everything she heard.

It's the reason she woke up late; she hardly ever got to sleep. Santana's sure the sun was already up when sleep kicked in.

Santana walks over to the kitchen and starts heating up the coffee.

_I woke up alone_, the line resounds in her head along with the sound of the coffee maker and the stupid S Club 7 song. The line plays over and over in her head and the way Quinn's voice sounded so broken by it. It's what kept her up all night—the thought that somebody had broken Quinn like that.

But if she's going to be really honest, what haunted her the most is the possibility that it was her Quinn was talking about.

The long silence that embraced the room after Quinn's confession had been the longest, most excruciating silence in Santana's whole life (except for that silence in the hospital when Quinn was in surgery).

Santana expected Rachel to ask who the person Quinn was talking about because that's what Rachel does best—prying, asking questions, pulling the truth out of anyone.

She waited for Rachel to ask because part of her, the part that genuinely cares, wants to know about the guy she will most certainly beat up. She'd beat that guy up for hurting Quinn and for not knowing how lucky he was.

The larger part of her, the selfish part of her, wants to know that it was her Quinn was talking about. She wanted to know that she had that much impact on Quinn.

But the third part of her, the coward part, just can't stand knowing that it might be her who broke Quinn Fabray apart like that. Quinn is unfixable when she's broken—and Santana cannot stand the truth that she's just like everybody in Quinn's life; just like everybody who shattered her to pieces and left.

Rachel never asked, which is as surprising as Blaine not wearing a bow tie at least five times a week.

_I know right?_

So the truth is hanging in there somewhere. Who is the mystery guy or more like, _was Quinn talking about Santana?_

She pours coffee into her large mug and sits by dining table, the sound of the next S Club 7 song completely ignored now.

She thinks about waking up the morning after Valentine's. She thinks about waking up next to Quinn and she remembers just how surprised she was that Quinn was still there, sleeping soundly beside her.

Of course, anybody would think Quinn would run away. She slept with another girl—and let's face it, she liked it. With the way her body reacted to Santana, she liked it; _loved _it even.

Santana remembers seeing Quinn's peaceful slumber. Her hair was gracefully mussed, her breathing was light and steady. It's the softest, most relaxed state Santana had seen Quinn in. It's like Quinn didn't want to be anywhere but there.

It's like she belonged there that morning, right beside Santana; nowhere else but beside her.

Santana smiled at the thought; _look who she got laid, Quinn Fabray herself_. It would feel like an achievement if it didn't already feel like a dream come true.

Quinn was her first crush, okay? There's no need to explain that because it's Quinn Fabray, she was born to walk the halls of McKinley and crush every heart that stood her way. Sleeping with _the _Quinn Fabray was every man's—and every secretly gay woman's—dream.

But Santana gave up that dream soon as she and Quinn became bestfriends; and also because of the fact that along with being very beautiful, Quinn is also very straight.

Valentine's was different, though. Quinn had said it was a one-time thing but Santana knows it was a lot more than that.

Santana remembers that night vividly up until this very day. She remembers because Santana believes that it's the first time that she and Quinn made real connection; like for the first time in forever, she knew Quinn Fabray up to her very last layer. And Santana's not even talking about the sex.

It's everything they shared that night: the moments at the non-wedding and the things they talked about after the first and second round. They talked about the future and they laughed at how stupid they've been in high school.

Santana remembers being amazed because lying next to Quinn in that bed is like a microscopic look at Quinn Fabray's mind. It was mind-blowing to look at Quinn in that proximity and see the things she wouldn't let anyone to see in the daylight.

And it's amazing how even more beautiful she is when she lets herself be vulnerable.

Right there and then, Santana realized she really barely knew Quinn. Sure, she's the closest friend Quinn has and that goes without saying.

But even with the years they've spent next to each other, climbing up the ranks of the Cheerios and in Glee Club, none of those years compare to that one night when Quinn just decided to be her true self.

None of those years ever compare to that one night Quinn decided to tear down her walls; she would laugh freely and openly at Santana's corniest jokes and she would banter with a lamer one. Santana took it as a privilege to see Quinn that… _free_.

But what takes Santana's breath the most is how Quinn just… _listened_. She listened to Santana's random blabbering. She listened as Santana talked about her dreams.

She paid attention like she's taking notes and Santana could admit that _no one_—not even Brittany—has looked at Santana like that; like they really want to know her, like they really want to memorize her.

Perhaps, it's what had Santana running that very morning. Perhaps, it's what had sent Santana packing, leaving as fast as she can; ignoring room service, ignoring the breakfast _they _ordered.

The possibility that they had _something_—that's what scared Santana the most. Because along with the possibility of them having _something _is also the possibility of it being _nothing_.

It's Quinn Fabray.

_It couldn't be. It's impossible._

Her thoughts are interrupted when Rachel sits across her, looking at her as if she wants to say something.

"What?" asks Santana, trying to put an annoyed bite to it.

"What's eating up at you Santana?" Rachel asks. "I've never seen you this distraught about something."

_You tell me_, Santana thinks but instead says, "Nothing."

Rachel shrugs as if it's the answer she's expecting.

"You know you can talk to me anytime, when you're ready to talk about it."

_Does she know?_

Santana wouldn't put it past Rachel. Despite all their accusations of her being conceited and selfish, Santana knows that Rachel knows her friends like the back of her hand. Maybe, the reason Rachel didn't have a follow-up question for Quinn last night is because she already knows the answer.

"I'm okay, Berry."

"Sure," Rachel says, unconvinced. She stands up and heads to Kurt's side of the apartment to gather her things.

Santana's alone once again just in time for the next song to play.

_Everybody's got something they had to leave behind_.

It makes her so, so mad, "You have got to be fucking kidding me!"

Rachel only laughs at her.

.

She drops by the diner to tell her boss she's quitting. She and Brittany still have so many things to finalize before the _big move_.

She's actually surprised herself that bidding everyone goodbye is harder than she thought. She _hates _waiting tables. She _hates _the awful men that hit on her and she _hates _all the over-privileged kids that come here just to visit the place where now-Broadway rising star Rachel Berry used to work at before landing the Funny Girl role.

However, she doesn't hate everyone she has worked with here.

Gunther, the owner, is the most considerate boss she's had. He would let them take a day off when a big audition happens somewhere. He understands that most of the people working here are just waiting for their big break. Nobody comes here to actually wait tables. The diner is like everyone's temporary stop and he understands that.

Morgan, one of the cashier ladies, is the one Santana had grown closest to since Kurt and Rachel left the diner. Morgan left her kid in Colorado with her parents to pursue a dream here. She hasn't been so lucky, save for a couple of small background roles in small productions. She could easily go back home and take over their small lumber business but Morgan isn't anywhere close to quitting. She knows that her kid needs her more that Broadway does but Morgan understands that big dreams require big sacrifices. She's gonna come back to raise her kid but not until she knows she's done, not until she knows she's really over.

There's also Jane, one of the cooks. She's in her mid-20s and unlike everyone else, Jane didn't come here hoping for a Broadway debut. She scored a full ride at the French Culinary Institute just a couple of blocks away from the diner. She hopes to be a cruise chef someday.

Santana admires everyone at the diner. She admires their patience for waiting for their time, for not quitting; for not doing what Santana would be doing in two weeks—giving up, running.

Santana doesn't think she has a heart to wait. Patience has never been her virtue. That's why maybe, New York is not for her.

Sure, Rachel is right. She _loves _New York.

But that's the thing about love—when you love something, it doesn't automatically learn to love you back.

"Hey," she hears a man's voice approaching from behind her.

She turns to the owner of voice. It's Luke, the bass guitarist from that band she loves to watch every Friday night at the Union Pool, a cool indie music venue up in Williamsburg. "Hey," she greets him.

He's in a band called _Mackenzie and the Jetpack Kids_, a band Dani had introduced to her back when they were still dating. They play a lot of slightly uptempo indie-folk music that draws a lot of young hipsters to the bar every Friday night. Save for a couple of poser hipsters, the band actually has a solid local following.

"I was hoping I'd find you here," he says as he sits across her, his British accent still obvious even after four years of staying in New York.

"Yeah? Why?" she asks. She looks around and sees no sign of Gunther. Her resignation is taking longer than expected.

"Well, you know Mackenzie is leaving for Detroit, right?"

"Really?"

She didn't know. Mackenzie is the band's vocalist and also the one who writes most of their songs.

"I take it you didn't know."

"I didn't. Why is she leaving?"

"Henry proposed to her and he's taking her back to Detroit to settle down there. She accepted it."

"Wow, that's good for her," Santana says and she feels really excited for Mackenzie and Henry. Those two are perfect for each other. "But what about the band?"

Luke smiles a one-sided smirk, one that sort of reminds Santana of Finn. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about," he says.

Santana only looks at him, waiting for him to continue.

"The vocalist spot will be empty and we want to offer it to you," he says and then smiles, as if he just figured out the solution for the widespread hunger across America.

"What?" Santana says, her heart beating loudly against her chest.

"Remember when we called you up on stage two months ago and you sang—"

"Cool Kids, yeah," she finishes for him.

She remembers that night because she actually had fun. She was with Rachel, Brittany, Kurt, and Blaine that night. The band announced that they want to sing a cover of this song they heard earlier and called for anybody that knows the song.

Of course, Santana knew the song. She _loves _it.

And when she whispered that she knew it, her friends practically pushed her to the stage and volunteered her to sing with the band.

"You sounded really good and we liked you so much."

"Wow."

"It's Mackenzie's idea to get you to be the band's new singer."

"Wow," she mutters again. Her heart is hammering against her chest because it never really crossed her mind. Santana in an indie band? Really?

What gets her is that a part of her that actually _wants _to.

But why now?

"So, would you like to, I don't know," Luke smiles, "Santana and the Jetpack Kids doesn't sound so bad."

Santana laughs. "I," she stutters, "I don't know what to say."

"Think about it. We would really—"

"No, I mean," she says with a sigh, "I'd love to but I'm leaving for LA in two weeks."

Disappointment crosses his face, "Oh."

She nods sadly, "Yeah."

"That blows."

"New York isn't really for me."

"Funny 'cause I you seem like the type who would _love _New York."

_Is it that obvious to everyone?_

Santana just gives him a sad smile.

"Well," he sighs, "I guess we can't get you to be our singer."

"I'm sorry, Luke."

"Nah," he brushes her off with a small smile, "Just a case of bad timing."

"Probably."

He takes a deep breath and reaches out to the pocket of his sweater. He hands her a card and says, "If LA doesn't work out, that's my number."

"What? No, I'm—"

"We're taking a hiatus for a couple of months anyway. It'd be hard to just go on without Mac and simply replace her with anyone."

"I might stay in LA for good."

"_Might_," he stresses.

"I don't—"

"Just keep it, Santana," he says and then stands up. "I hope LA works out for you but if doesn't, just remember that New York always has a weird way of showing how it loves us. Opportunities are _everywhere_, you just have to squint a little to see it."

He walks away after that.

_Oh God, why now?_

.

After her talk with Gunther and after she had said her teary goodbyes to everyone, Santana grabs a latte and walks by NYU. She stands across the street, clutching the cup with both of her hands.

She thinks about Quinn's email.

She thinks about how the email had two parts. One part has a list of many schools, trainings, and job openings she can venture on just in case she stays. It has everything in it—like art school, medical school, and even the police academy was listed in it.

The second part was solely related to _music_. The second part of that email contained different music schools complete with pros and cons, the school's reputation, and the travel time from the loft to the school.

Quinn even had a side note that said, _I purposely left out any school that will require you to take the train too many times_.

Santana laughed at that.

As ridiculous as that email was, it was also concise and detailed—and it was obviously made by someone who knows Santana way too much.

There's a part of that email that had Santana thinking: NYU Steinhardt's BM degree in Music Composition. What got Santana's attention was a note from Quinn that reads:

_(If you finish this program at NYU, you could easily take a Master's in Songwriting.)_

Reading that from Quinn's email had sent Santana to the school, asking them for a brochure about the program. She read the stupid brochure from cover to cover only to hide it under her pillow because _no_.

She can't be _seriously _considering studying at NYU when she's leaving in two weeks.

She made a promise to Brittany and she's not gonna let her down.

Before she walks back to the apartment, she takes one last look at the building; and like a joke, a cab with its windows rolled down passes in front of her. She hears a familiar song on the radio.

_Goodbye, my almost lover  
Goodbye, my hopeless dream_

"You have got to be kidding me," she mutters under breath as she turns her back on NYU.

Part of her feels like she's turning her back on it all.

.

It's seven in the evening and Santana sits with Kurt and Rachel by the living room as the duo busies themselves with school stuff. Rachel has a habit of staying at the loft as long as she can because she doesn't want to go home to an empty apartment (or a _shoe box _as Santana would put it).

Santana is watching a rerun of Storage Wars and she tries, hard, not to make anything of the fact that the fuckin' show had grown on her. Quinn mentioned it to her once and now, she finds herself actually watching it whenever it's on.

_Quinn and her stupid TV shows._

"Where's Brit?" Kurt asks without looking up from his reading material. It's a script of _Macbeth_.

"She sent me a text. She's working late tonight."

Kurt just nods and goes back to reading.

They're left to their own businesses for a while until the constant tapping of Rachel's pen on the wooden coffee table finally annoys Santana.

"What is your problem?" she asks Rachel.

Rachel looks up at her and it's when Santana notices that she's bothered by something.

"Nothing," Rachel says instead and turns her attention back to her script.

"Cut the crap, Berry. What's bothering you?"

Rachel looks at her suddenly with a look that Santana recognizes well. It's Rachel's _I'm-about-to-ask-you-a-life-altering-question _look.

The other brunette takes a deep, long breath before she releases it slowly. It makes Kurt turn to the both of them. He knows something is about to happen and of course, he's not gonna miss it.

Rachel clears her throat, "I know I promised to get off your back about it but I really, really just have to ask, okay?"

Santana just nods. She has an idea what this is about.

"Are you really, really sure you want to move to LA?"

Santana releases a heavy sigh as she rolls her eyes, "Really, Rachel? This again?"

"Just answer it Santana."

"Yes, Rachel. I'm sure."

A heartbroken look crosses Rachel's face.

"Have you been dying to ask me that since this morning?"

"I'm dying to ask you that every single day until you give me an answer I could believe," she counters as she starts gathering her stuff from the table.

"We talked about this. I'm leaving."

"No shit, Blue's Clues," Rachel says, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she gestures at the set of boxes at the corner of the room.

Kurt chuckles at the reference.

"What's with your renewed interest in my decision to leave?"

Rachel shakes her head as she starts stuffing her study materials inside her bag. "You know you keep saying _nothing's _left for you here in New York and you know what I think?"

"I know what you think, Berry. You've made that very clear so many times."

"Well, let me repeat that to you just in case you don't get it."

"I don't—"

"I think that you're leaving _a lot _by leaving New York. You feel like there's nothing left here for you because you _have not _looked _close _enough to see what you have here. If you just tried harder, you—"

"Wow, Berry. You think I've not tried my best to see what's in store for me here?"

"You wanna know why people are unhappy, Santana? People are unhappy because they're looking in the wrong places to be happy. And if you've looked as hard as you claim to have had, you will stay. It's impossible for you to miss it."

"We're not talking about New York anymore, are we?"

Rachel slings her bag on her shoulder and meets Santana's eyes, determined to make a point, "You tell me, Santana. Are we still talking about New York?"

It's in that moment Santana believes that Rachel _knows_.

How?

She has no idea.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I made a promise to Brittany and you know me, I don't break promises," Santana lies because it's easier this way.

Rachel laughs bitterly, "See, this is what's eating me up. That it's not about you figuring it out. It's not about you not knowing what you want. It's about going with Brittany. It's about Brittany! It's about you not knowing how it's like to _not _be with Brittany."

"Stop it—"

"News flash, Santana. You were _fine _when she left for MIT. You've been _good_! You survived that's why I don't understand why you're in this again."

"I don't owe you an explanation."

"Oh, I'm not asking for any. I'm not the one who needs one from you."

It's enough for Santana to shut up and look away because she knows exactly who has questions for her. She knows exactly what Rachel is talking about and the other brunette knows it.

"You haven't been happy, Santana," Rachel says before she makes a move toward the door. "And believe me, it's not about you not knowing what to do with your life because _you know _what you want."

Rachel walks out of the door after that.

Santana just groans loudly and kicks the couch in frustration before disappearing to her room.

Kurt is left there alone without any idea of what just went down.

"What just happened?"

..

Meanwhile in New Haven, Quinn is in her dorm, doing some light reading for tomorrow's lessons. Sitting on the bed just across her is Hanna, browsing Facebook. They're playing random songs from Hanna's phone and soon as the next song plays, it gets Quinn's attention.

_Say something I'm giving up on you._

Quinn chuckles, "Really, Han?"

Hanna giggles, "I swear it's a random playlist."

"Random," Quinn repeats, unconvinced. Hanna had been teasing her since she came back from New York. She and Emily have been telling her to just speak about her _feelings, _maybe, it'll stop her _friend _from going West.

"Do you ever stop reading?" Hanna asks, changing the topic.

Quinn smiles, "Do you ever logout of Facebook?"

Hanna laughs, "Never. I'm on Facebook even when I'm not on Facebook."

Quinn just laughs and rolls her eyes.

A knock on the door disturbs their peace. It's weird. Nobody ever really visits them after six, not even Emily and even then, Emily doesn't knock. She'd sent them a text if she's coming over and they'd unlock the door for her.

Hanna, with wide eyes says, "If it's my ex, tell him I transferred schools. Tell him I transferred to Seattle."

"Why Seattle?"

Hanna shrugs, "I just wanted to say Seattle."

Quinn just shakes her head smilingly and hops off her bed to open the door.

Once she opens the door, a surprise is waiting for her.

"Hi, Quinn."

Standing in front of her is no other than Brittany.

"Brittany?" she mutters, trying not to let her voice wobble.

She hears Hanna's bed creak, signaling movement. She knows Hanna just perked up from sitting there comfortably because Hanna knows exactly who Brittany is.

"Can we talk?" Brittany asks.

And Quinn decide that this is it.

This is where _her story _starts to shift.

* * *

The songs mentioned in this chapter: (1) Don't Stop by S Club 7 (2) Never Had A Dream Come True by S Club 7 (3) Cool Kids by Echosmith (4) Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy (4) Say Something by A Great Big World

Forgive me for the S Club 7 thing, it's my sister's fault. LOL.

Thoughts?


End file.
